


Another Boy, Another Planet

by ninhursag



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Character of Color, Femdom, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/het_idcrack/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/het_idcrack/"><b>het_idcrack</b></a> (is my baby, I go <b>first</b>, blah, blah)!  In which Kirk was captured by Nero as an infant and raised as his slave. Twenty-five years later, talented young Star Fleet command cadet Nyota Uhura <strike>steals</strike> takes command of the Enterprise when her first officer is emotionally compromised and saves the day. And the boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Boy, Another Planet

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/amazonziti/profile)[**amazonziti**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/amazonziti/) who was good enough to beta! ♥

  
Captain Pike is so far gone when she unstraps him from the flat Romulan torture gurney in the bowels of the enemy ship, Uhura can barely pick out what he's saying. When she gets the gist, it still doesn't make sense.

"The kid," he hisses. "Winona's son. Got to be. George. Have to help."

Uhura shakes her head, leaning over to make sure of Pike's pulse, try to figure if he's going to be steady enough to walk out of here. "It's fine, sir," she soothes.

Pike's mouth quirks for a moment, but then he shakes his head, hard and fast. Blinks, like he's dizzy. Concussion, she thinks. Fuck. Nothing McCoy and his staff can't handle when she gets the Captain home, though. It's the fact he's shaking under her hands, like all of his fine motor control is offline, that scares her, but she tells herself it's adrenaline and shock.

"You shouldn't be here, Cadet," he says, like that's ever stopped her from being anywhere, including the Enterprise, a ship she wasn't even assigned to. A ship that's hers right now, as much as this man's.

"Just following orders," she says, as she maneuvers his legs to standing. Spock's out there somewhere, but there's no counting on him for this. This is the crunch -- there's no time. "Come on, let's get you out of here. I--"

She doesn't finish her sentence. Pike reaches forward, grabbing for her phaser before she has time to react, but he never fires it. Instead there's the whine of disruptor fire and a short, shallow scream that dies before it carries. Uhura spins around, just in time to see a dead Romulan crumpled on the cold, dirty bulkhead floor and standing over him an equally dirty boy that might have been a lot of things, but was definitely no Romulan.

He looks back at her with the bluest eyes she's ever seen, focused with a feral intensity that she couldn't have flinched from if she wanted to. She knows that face, she could swear she knows him, from a memory that isn't her own.

His voice is rough and harsh, but he speaks in unaccented Romulan, just barely tainted by south continent miner's cant. "You probably don't understand me," he says, and his eyes are narrow. "But there are four more about three minutes behind me. If you've got a plan, I'd execute it now."

"I understand you fine," Uhura returns in the same language. "What's your name? Mine is Uhura." He stares at her blankly for a moment and shakes his head. She takes a step forward, but she's not going to get far without Pike and she's not stepping away from him either. She holds out a hand to the boy instead. "Come on," she says. "Otherwise I'll have to make one up for you.

"Come on," she repeats softly. He hesitates and looks over his shoulder, like he's waiting for the four he said are coming. The disruptor's held too tightly in his hands, white knuckled even in the dim light, like he's not really used to holding one.

"James Tiberius Kirk," Pike whispers in her ear. And for an instant Uhura freezes, the familiarity makes sense when she remembers dark eyes against the ice fields of Delta Vega, remembers Spock. Not her-- not the Spock she knows, and her throat aches. Pike mumbles on, regardless, "that's what George and Win called him on their last transmission. Hell of a name for a little baby boy."

The kid... Kirk, if Pike's right and not just chasing fever dreams, if Spock... the kid shakes his head, blank, uncomprehending. No real understanding of Standard, then, or else he's doing a good job of hiding it.

_James_, Pike said. And Spock-- "Jim," she tries out and the kid flinches and backs up a step. Fuck. If she can get him close enough to touch him, the transporter will get a lock on him when they beam out. Whoever he is. Assuming the plan worked and Uhura's-- and _Pike's_ ship is where she's supposed to be. She holds out her hand again, reaching, offering. "Okay, pretend that's just the name I made up for you. Come on, James. Take my hand and I'll get you out of here."

He swallows visibly, looks over his shoulder again. She can hear the echo of boots on bulkheads, pounding toward them. "Them or me?" she says. And then, on pure, bloody minded instinct, "Take a chance."

He shrugs and smiles. There's blood on his mouth, mostly dry and mostly red, so it's his own. "Yeah, all right." And then he's right there, warm and rank, the thick scent of unwashed male and old pain. His hand is in hers.

"Enterprise, three to beam, now, now," she hisses into her communicator, and the world dissolves around her. She can still hear the whine of disruptor fire they narrowly left behind, even as the cool, clean transporter room of the Enterprise and that crazy son of a bitch Scotty's smirking face define themselves before her.

She turns to look at Spock, who's right there beside her looking back and she can't resist a smile, bright with victory. He doesn't return it of course, but his eyes are bright for the first time since they'd faced off on the bridge and she'd taken the ship-- no, since he beamed off of Vulcan, after dropping Amanda's hand. She swallows and lets herself look at him, but just for a second.

Then McCoy and his medical staff are right there, gently pulling Pike's weight off her and everyone is talking at once and there's just no more time.

"Captain," and the pause in Spock's voice after the word makes her swallow. "Who is this individual?" Spock asks and that's about when she remembers that she still has James' hand wrapped up in hers and the grip tightens enough to hurt when Spock points at him. She manages to force herself not to wince.

"He's a Federation citizen who was captured by the Romulans," she says, like that explains anything. "He saved our asses down there." Which might explain a little more. The thing is, there isn't time. "We'll figure it out later, now we need to get to the bridge. I'll join you there as soon as I take care of this."

The only thing is, the kid doesn't let go of her hand when she tries to step away from him. His face is spacer pale under the dirt, like he's never seen the sun in his life and he's about ten seconds from panic on top of it. And he's still holding the damned disruptor. That and she's the only one on the ship with more than a bare handful of Romulan words to her name and if he speaks any other languages she doesn't know about it.

She puts her fingers on his gun hand and looks him right in the eye. "I can't let you on my bridge if you don't give that to me." She can't leave him alone either, not unless she wants to have security take him to the brig. Now, that would be protocol. There's an inner voice in her head that sounds a lot like Spock in a snit, advocating it hard.

The boy blinks, stares, all feral blue eyes and tight pursed mouth. Shakes his head, once, but hard.

"Jim," she says. That makes him flinch again. "Is that not your name?" she repeats, as gently as she can when she does not have fucking time for this.

"The Vulcan said it was," he says after a pause. "James... is what they called me here... no. There." She lets her finger slowly wind into his, uncurling his grip on the disruptor bit by gentle bit without ever taking her eyes off his. His hands are shaking, but he doesn't stop her.

"The Vulcan?" she asks, even though she already knows the answer. This is Spock's, the other Spock's, Jim. James.

James frowns. "Spock. Nero said his name was Spock. He said he knew me. In another life." It's Uhura's turn to flinch, but there's just no time.

"Okay," she says, because at least she has the damned gun. "It's okay now." She hands it over to a wide eyed little security ensign. James lets go of her other hand and watches her, gaze gone blank. Like he's waiting for something, she doesn't even know what.

She can take a guess it isn't good, not with the way he clenches up and darts little glances at the security staff that's surrounding them both like he expects-- she doesn't want to know what he expects. "Come on," she says, and takes his hand back. He lets her. "You can tell me anything you know about that ship that can help on our way to the bridge."

"Captain," Giotto, the chief of security, at least since the last one got his head cracked open after a direct hit with a photon torpedo, protests. "Regulations don't allow civilians, especially possible enemy civilians--"

She smiles at him. It's been that kind of day. "Pretend I care, chief. And relax. I've got this one." She turns her smile on the kid and resists the urge to gentle it too much. He shivers, animal wary, but finally, finally nods. "Bridge, now," she tells him and they go, him half a stride behind her.

"Enemy shields are down, sir," Ensign Chekov tels her as the bridge doors slide shut behind her. "The red matter device is beginning to effect their structural integrity."

She breathes. She knew it would work, she did, but seeing it happen is better. "Hail them now," she says. There's some muttered Russian and then the comm flickers and Nero's face comes into focus in front of her.

He smiles, like his ship isn't shuddering and burning around him, and nods his head at the men on either side of her. "A Vulcan monster and a human traitor, like all his kind," he says. "Fine company you find yourself in, Captain."

She smiles back. "I'm fine with it. Your ship is damaged and you and your crew are dead without assistance... which we will provide." There's a hiss of breath from her left and that's James, but he doesn't say anything.

"Captain," Spock says, inflection darkening. His body language is old hat and she'd have known exactly what he was feeling even if his tone was as robotic as ever. They turn in unison, away from the screen and Spock looks at her. She doesn't flinch from what's behind his eyes, but it's a near thing. "I must protest."

She just looks at him. Her throat hurts and she starts to feel how she's going to pay for the last two days, physically. Soon. "Mercy and compassion, Spock? It's ethical. I thought you'd like it."

He raises an eyebrow. "I find I do not."

James' voice is a rumble, low and harsh. "He's a world killer," is all he says. "No one would cry for him." She doesn't know how much he's followed of what's happening, that's something she'll worry about later.

Nero speaks and she turns back around, and they do too, following smoothly. There's no sanity in those dark eyes, no expression in his stiff face. There's plenty in his voice, though. "I would rather die a thousand times than accept assistance from you. I would rather burn in agony--"

Uhura smiles. "Fair enough," she says. Then, to Sulu, "Shields up and back us away from here. I don't want to find out the effect radius of red matter in open space, at least not the hard way."

Figures, of course, that she thought of that a little too late.

  
**Earlier**

  
There are still bruises on her neck from the fucking nerve pinch, but she's so cold she can barely feel them anymore. The numb ache has spread from her fingers down her arms and if it weren't for the winter gear she's wearing, she wouldn't lay odds on not losing some digits. Cold.

And then she meets the startled dark eyes of the ancient looking Vulcan who just saved her ass and forgets all about being cold. "Nyota?" he gasps. The emotion-- _emotion_\-- is so thick she can taste the waves of it, even if just for a second. "How did you find me here?"

"I'm sorry," she forces out, still trying to find the air for words. "But who are you?" Then she looks a little harder, deeper, imagines away the grooves and lines and emotions and she knows. "Spock," she whispers. "Spock."

"It is... entirely startling to see you here, old friend, but pleasantly so," he murmurs. "I had worried that my effect on this universe had been even more deleterious than I feared when Ji--" He stops and frowns.

She shakes her head and then bites down against a wave of pain from the motion, but the pain is sucked down by another wave of anger and adrenaline. This entire day can just fuck itself and Spock, whichever Spock it is, can be first in line for buggering. "Is this some kind of a-- tell me what's going on. Tell me now."

He looks at her so softly, like he has no idea what she even is. "You are very different from the Nyota I knew, but not, I believe, entirely so," he says, and takes a step toward her, hands reaching out like he was getting ready to touch her face. "This will be the easiest way, there is simply no time." She goes still, just a gut reaction from the melds Spock had initiated before and Spock... fuck, this is Spock she has in front of her.

In the meld, his inner voice is Spock's but not Spock's, thick with surprise and wonder, _Your mind is familiar with mine_, his voice comes as a whisper, almost a caress. And she remembers the first time she'd melded with Spock, in his quarters at the Academy, the soft press and sharp edges and the way he'd looked at her and said her name like he'd been waiting to do it for a long time. But that was over.

This Spock is not her Spock, not like that, no, this Spock thinks, _How unexpected... yet, appropriate_. And then he shows her, another world, another timeline, and in it, another Uhura. And something else, something sharp and beautiful and lost.

_Jim_, gold and blue, who should have been and isn't, lost and feral in a dark, cavernous Romulan ship. And a longing she can taste.

Spock's mind wrenches away from the image before she can fully absorb it and then he drowns her in memories of Nero and Romulus and the death of Vulcan just hours ago, the thick waves of emotion overwhelming.

When they're done, she's left panting, clutching her head, while he watches her, all that grief below that smooth, kind surface, almost invisible. He hides himself better than she did... than this world's Spock ever had, she thinks.

"What now?" she whispers, her voice cracking too loud through the mess of her thoughts. "Spock's got the ship and he's leading them the wrong way. I can't-- I couldn't make him see. He marooned me here instead of listening." She puts her hands up to her neck and watches the tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of this Spock's eyebrows at the sight of the bruises.

"He is emotionally compromised," he says, calm as if he himself isn't. "That is what you must make him see, and you are perhaps the only being in this universe who can."

She looks away.

"Nyota," he says. "In this time and this universe, I think it may be your destiny." There's a silent thought behind Spock's words, one that slips into her subconscious before she even hears it.

A boy, made of blue and gold, too young, too lost. _Save him, bring him home_.

Love him, like I do.

She shakes her head. The thought's gone, she forgets it wasn't hers.

**Now**

  
An ejected warp core later, and her ship is free and clear and limping home on impulse power.

"Captain," Spock says and the sound of his voice doesn't make her flinch but only because she's too damned tired now. "I believe our guest requires medical assistance. As do you."

She looks up and behind her and the boy-- Jim, _James_\-- is leaning against the edge of her chair like he's trying not to pretend he's using it to hold himself up. His blue eyes are half closed and bleary. She understands how he feels.

"Captain, may I escort you?" And now Spock sounds tireder, older, almost like the one in the cave, and it would take a harder person than Uhura's ever managed to be to deny him. She looks him in the eyes.

"Let's go," she says with a firm nod. "Sulu, you have the conn."

She expects him to say something, anything, but they walk together in near silence, the only distraction is James' visible fascination with the lines of the Enterprise. He doesn't ask where they're going, or argue the point, and that surprises her as much as Spock's silence.

Spock doesn't break it until they're in front of sickbay and then it's only a muttered, "Nyota, we must... We... we will speak."

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. Reaches up to touch his cheek. "Yeah. We will." He hesitates, just for a second and then turns and goes. That leaves her in a near empty corridor with only the weight of a stranger's curious blue eyes.

"Come on, let's get you seen to," she says in Romulan. "And don't mind McCoy, growling seems to make him happy."

James shrugs and starts to move toward the door and then pauses. "You're very trusting," he says suddenly. "Alone with me here. Human males are stronger than females, right? I could... harm you. Couldn't I?" The words should be a threat, but all there is in his expression is a strained curiosity. His mouth is soft and bruised looking and it's easy to forget how easily he held a disruptor in his hands like he'd been trained for it.

She's too tired for this anyway and just reaches out, taking him by the arm. "I'm not worried," she says, and when she tugs him along, he goes.

She doesn't say, _I know what you are and I'm not afraid of that_. Even if knowledge from a mindmeld of another world counts, he's not that Jim, and heaven knows she's not that Uhura.

She doesn't have to say anything, she walks through the door, one arm on James to steady herself as much as him and McCoy's right there on her, all blistering tongue and overstressed eyes and, "Damnit, Nyota, sit still and let me look at you."

"Pike," she says, before he gets too wound up to hear her.

His face turns down, just about droops. "Stable," he says. "He-- there are spinal issues, but no real way to determine the extent with the equipment we have on hand here. When we get back to Earth, I'll be able to say better. I'm keeping him in stasis in the meantime to prevent any degeneration."

"Fuck," she says, before she even really gets a chance to think about it. She scrubs one hand over her face. Nothing to be done now. She's got a ship to run and thousands of souls on board to take care of with no Pike to hand it back to. Fuck. Not to mention her other, happily smaller problem.

When she turns to introduce her smaller problem to McCoy, he's gone from her side. She squeezes her eyes shut and wonders why she thought she didn't have to worry about him again. "Fuck," she hisses, even more emphatically.

What she should do is call security and track him down, it's in the regs and it's the smart thing to do anyway. She doesn't want to. McCoy's coming at her with a tricorder and a worried expression and she wants to pretend it isn't a problem and it will just go away.

The thing of it, though, is that it won't.

"Get me Giotto," she mutters, pushing on her communicator while McCoy's tricorder beeps at her and he mutters something about bruising and cracked ribs and idiots with their damned idiocy. "Tell him our guest from the Romulan vessel is missing."

Forty minutes and some time under osteo and dermal regenerators later there's still no sign of James and she can't bring herself to worry about it. Instead she makes her slow way toward the only quarters on this ship with some bunkspace that aren't currently occupied by Vulcan refugees-- the Captain's.

Figures that when she punches in the security code he's right there, sitting crosslegged at the foot of Pike's bed, bruised and battered and still managing to be doll pretty just like that, with his soft mouth and long lashes framing clear blue eyes. Like he's been waiting for her all this time.

He grins. "Hello, Captain," he says, in badly accented Standard. "Your ship's security... what's the word... oh, yeah, _sucks_. Profoundly," he adds in Romulan.

She gets the vague feeling that she shouldn't find this a fraction as funny as she does, but her bones ache and she's dog tired and it's all really too much. "When I was at the Academy, my best friend and I used to have an end of semester ritual of hoisting Giotto's-- he's the security chief at the moment-- underwear on the flagpole. He never did manage to successful hide it from us." It would even be funny, except Gaila's-- well, she was on the Farragut and she probably isn't-- but Uhura won't think of that yet.

James blinks and rests his palms on his knees. "I don't know what that means," he says after a long, careful pause. That makes it even less funny.

She sighs and walks up to him, ready to sink down on the floor next to him, but he rises up half way to meet her instead, still on his knees, and she's not sure if he's trying to be unthreatening or something else. She wants to say something, ask a question, but she doesn't know what.

"I'll tell you what I do know. I served my former Captain," James says, and there's a curl to his mouth, sweet as poisoned honey. His lips are pink and wet, like he's been licking them. "I can serve you, if you want."

"You're not a Federation officer, you can't serve on this ship," Uhura says, without even thinking about how dumb that will sound. She feels hot, hands bunched at her side. His eyes are very blue.

He laughs out loud and the sound is surprisingly warm and free of malice. He's right there, warm and in her space. Pushing up so he's on his knees, easy and graceful as if he'd been born to do it. "Captain," he says, and that word just slides off his tongue. She's never imagined hearing it the way he says it. "I can serve _you_."

He rests his cheek against her knee. She can feel his breath, warm and wet against her uniform trousers. His tongue is pink, just teasing out against the corner of his mouth.

"This isn't--" she starts to say, but can't remember the words. "I'm not."

The smile on his mouth twists. Mobile, emotion so visible in every line of him it's like he shouting. The opposite of Spock except for the way there's something like resignation in the curve of his lips. "The angry Vulcan who was on the bridge is your mate, right?" he says. "He looked at you like a mate."

She blinks. "I suppose he was," she starts to say.

"He's your mate," James mutters and looks away. He stays on his knees. "Nero had a mate, once. He never shut up about her. You shouldn't let that keep you from taking advantage of what I can do for you anyway." _He didn't_, is implied and it makes her want to gag.

"My boyfriend," Uhura admits instead. She stares at the top of his head, too long strands of dirty blond mixed in with gold, like somewhere in space he's gotten enough sun to stain it. "He was. I'm not sure he's really forgiven me for stealing his ship."

James startles back and of course it's a relief, not anything else, to not have him so close. Of course. "You stole his ship and now he's serving under you willingly? And you trust him?"

She smiles helplessly and then, after a bare moment's pause, she sinks down next to James so that they're eye to eye. "I trust him. But... I don't think the mate thing is really going to work out after this. It's a lot." James open his mouth and she shakes her head. "There, now I've told you something about me. Why don't you tell me something about you and how a Terran human ended up on a Romulan ship?" She knew, she could guess, mostly, but she needed to hear what he was going to say.

He shrugged eloquently and lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on his knees. "Nero told me my mother sold me to him since she didn't want-- but a few days ago there was a Vulcan, an old Vulcan that Nero captured and he said that I was-- was supposed to be--"

"I don't think any of us are what we were supposed to be," she says, quick and sharp and purely instinctive. He blinks up at her and on impulse, she takes one of his hands. His grip is bone-creakingly strong.

"You met him too," James says, and his eyes flash, quick and easy, but he doesn't let go of her hand. "The Vulcan. That's why you trust _me_. That's stupid."

That shouldn't be funny. She smooths away the almost smile she feels coming on. "It's stupid to tell me not to trust you. Throwing away an advantage, aren't you?"

James makes a face. "You're really human," he mutters, like _human_ is the worst insult anyone has ever told him.

She curls her fingers against his. "Yeah, tell me about it." She rubs her eyes with her free hand. Trust is a tricky thing, but she sees the images in Spock-on-the-planet's mind, gold and blue and _Jim_ who is beautiful, like this painfully young man is beautiful.

She's not ready for it when he leans over to kiss her, full on the mouth. His lips are chapped, like he's spent too long with badly calibrated climate control, and he tastes strange, like chalky military rations and spices that were never human. But his mouth is still wet and warm and real and she can feel the unsteady thrum of his pulse. She kisses him back, hungrier than she ever thought she'd be. She never lets go of his hand, he doesn't let her.

The kiss leaves them both gasping, staring at each other. His eyes are hard and strange and honest enough to hurt. "Okay," he says. "I threw away an advantage. Give me this one to make up for it. Come and know me." Know me. Very eloquent, formal Romulan. She almost laughs.

Stupid, stupid, back off, her brain screams at her like a red alert, chasing laughter away. Uhura, there will never be anything as stupid as this, not even fun and games with Spock's prize Kobayashi Maru will be as stupid as this. But... fuck if she hadn't beaten the Kobayashi Maru.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she manages to make herself say. He smirks, all smug insolence and that makes her think he wants to more than anything else he could have done. This time, she kisses him, reaching out to curl her free hand around the back of his neck and tug him in close and hot.

His tongue is wet and flexible, following her cue, and she slides up closer so she's straddling his thighs. His eyes are darker, wetter. He licks his lips when she lets them go. "Um," he whispers hoarsely, after a long pause. "I've never... you know. With a woman before. You'll have to show me how to please you."

A flash of free floating anger startles her, but she pushes it aside. Kisses him again, gently, on his forehead. He still hasn't let go of her hand and she can feel the bruises and aches forming. She pushes herself up to her feet with a quick gesture, but without letting go.

"Up," she says, tugging at him and he follows, big eyed again. It's no distance at all to the bed and the smallest push has him moving toward it, sprawling back. He's visibly hard, even with the loose cut of the trousers he's wearing. She smiles at him. Her thighs tingle and she feels wet and empty, swollen mouthed and shaky.

She wants to touch him. Rub her fingers on the visible bruising where his shirt is torn and see how deep it goes. She wants to... fuck. Fuck. "You're bruised all over and you ran off before I had the chance to get the doctor to look at you. Have you even eaten?" she demands, startling even herself.

He blinks. Stares. "What? At all? They fed me everyday, humans need constant nourishment."

Wordlessly, she reaches into her boot while he stares wide eyed like he thinks she might be pulling a snake out of there. There's a hollow pocket she designed, perfect for an emergency phaser and a ration bar, because you never know. The ration bar is what gets tugged out and peeled open.

She sits down on the bed next to him and hands him half, popping the other half into her mouth. He stares a little harder. "You're really, really strange, you know that?" he mutters.

"Eat," she demands, around a mouthful of the stuff. "There are starving children all over the galaxy who would kill for that food."

He blinks again and laughs, bright and sudden, the fading tension in his body making him easier to look at, maybe even more beautiful. Sheer relief makes her laugh too. Like this, she thinks she could touch him and have it be okay.

  
**Three Years Earlier**

Captain Pike finds her in her tiny little office that's kept from being tomb like by the giant window with the view of Nairobi spreading out like a benediction of wood, glass, metal and brick. She's bent over a text, some kind of crackling vellum that was just barely rated sound enough to be removed from the sterility of the university library's reading room. She hasn't had time to tell him to come in before he finished knocking and is standing in front of her.

She frowns up at him, one eyebrow raised. He smiles at her, like he hasn't just pushed in after a perfunctory knock. "Nyota Uhura?" he asks. "The secretary downstairs said I could find you here. My name is Christopher Pike and I'd like to speak with you about your work."

His uniform is pressed and perfect. Perfectly official. She puts her text down. "I don't think my work is interesting to Star Fleet, Captain," she says. "And I'm sorry, I don't remember you making an appointment."

He shrugs. "They told me downstairs I didn't need one to speak to a post-doc. And you're right, what you're doing now-- transcribing Vulcan poetry-- isn't much good to the Fleet. Your doctoral thesis on the other hand, pushed us toward some of the biggest advances in translation since Hoshi Sato or Amanda Grayson."

She can feel her mouth tighten. She doesn't look away from him, though, not for a moment. "If this is a recruitment speech, the Fleet really needs to work on their patter," she mutters.

He laughs, wrinkles spreading like a web around the corner of his eyes. If she'd thought for a second he was laughing at her instead of himself, she'd have turned him out. "That wasn't the speech they told me to make, no. They're looking to recruit a linguist, Ms. Uhura--"

"Dr. Uhura," she says, without thinking about it. He only nods.

"Forgive me. Dr. Uhura. The Admiralty thinks they need a linguist, and they're not wrong. But, me, I think they need something unique. The Fleet's lost something over the last twenty-odd years, they've gotten stale, rule-bound." There's something bright in his eyes. His palms are open and he leans a little toward her, like the desk separating them isn't there.

She can't help her laugh and the small shake of her head. "I don't doubt that, Captain Pike," she says. "But I wonder what that has to do with me."

He nods and takes a step closer, hands on the desk and leaning forward. "Before they sent me here, I read your file," he says. She nods just once, keeping her face loose and open and not at all like that simple sentence makes her want to get up and run. "Not just the official mumbo jumbo. Between the lines."

They both take a breath, almost in unison. Noisy and rough. She doesn't tell him to shut up. "Tarsus IV," he says. "The biggest fuck-up that sticking to the rules got the Federation into over the last years. You were the little girl whose name was redacted in Hoshi Sato's report. You--"

She's on her feet. "I don't have to listen to this."

"You're right, you don't," he says, quiet and serious now, all the laughter smoothed out of his face. "We owe you a debt for what you did, and that includes some peace and quiet and Vulcan poetry. But... if you wanted something more, if you pushed for it, I don't see a limit to what you could do."

She's still on her feet, heart pounding in her ears. She can taste dust and iron, the tang of old blood, hers and not hers. Light years away from this calm, small space full of books and order with the light that comes in through the window. "Coming here, digging this up-- what is it you want from me?" she asks and hates how much it sounds like a plea.

"You've earned a quiet, ordinary life," he says softly. She can't seem to look away from his eyes. "But I'm asking you to do something else instead. Enlist in Star Fleet. Not operations and linguistics like they want you to-- command. If you're half the person at twenty-two that you were at twelve, you could have your own ship. Prevent your own Tarsus before it ever got as far. Stop it from happening and save all those people. Be... better than what we have."

She closes her eyes. Her hands are shaking. "Get out," she says, so calmly that it's only the shaking that gives her away.

"Dr. Uhura--"

"Out! I'm telling them downstairs, no visitors without a fucking _appointment_." She can hear him breathing, but she can't hear his footsteps leaving. She opens her mouth to shout, but doesn't get the chance.

"I understand and apologize," he says, with a gentleness that makes her want to see him bleed more than the rest of it. "If you reconsider, there's a recruitment shuttle leaving from Nairobi Port at 10 AM sharp tomorrow and there'll be a seat for you on it. Just... think about it."

She doesn't open her eyes until the door closes tight behind him. Out her window, life in Nairobi continues on, loud and bright under Terra's yellow sun. She puts her hands against the glass and pretends that what she sees is here, just here and no place else.

  
**Now**

The Enterprise limps like a battle sore maiden and a consult with Scotty tells Uhura that it will be weeks, not hours or days, until they're back in a space dock big enough to handle them.

Weeks to learn in extremely intimate terms, how small a star ship really is, when your first officer can't look you in the eye, your crew is suffering from various shades of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and you have an extremely good looking problem that every regulation in the book says belongs in the brig or at minimum in supervised guest quarters. Never in the Captain's quarters, mostly sleeping in the Captain's bed like he belongs there and poring through computer records he's never supposed to be within a light year of when he's awake.

"I'm learning Standard," he says, in surprisingly good Standard, when she asks him about it. "It's really helpful to have lots of data sources, otherwise my colloquial language is going to suck and I'll sound like a Vulcan."

"Scary," she says. He blinks at her, like he's deadly serious and then ruins it with a sunny smile that makes her want to agree with him.

"So, are you going to tell me how you stole this ship?" he asks.

She shrugs. That, out of all of this, isn't any kind of state secret. "I wasn't even supposed to be on board," she admits lightly. "Spock... well, I had to alter one of the parameters of a test he set up to make it interesting." Her mouth curls into an expression she knows is ugly, but she can't help. "He felt that it would be pure favoritism to not try to get me expelled, even if I was his girlfriend."

James leans back into his seat and looks at her thoughtfully for a long moment. "I don't know what that means or how it follows," he says, after a long pause. "Test? Expelled? I could look it up if you think it's important, but it really wasn't part of the... what's the word, atmosphere? Routine? On the Narada."

Uhura sighs. "Right, so I should cut to the chase." He blinks at her. "Uh, that means you just want me to explain, right?"

"Oh." He gives her another sunny smile. "Yup."

"I convinced Pike I belonged on board at the last minute and he changed the orders. Spock was Acting Captain of the Enterprise and Pike made me Acting First when Nero... well, you know that part. Spock and I had a disagreement on handling Nero and he.. marooned me for mutiny."

James makes a face and nods along. "So you led a rebellion and took the ship from him?"

That makes her laugh. "No. Worse. I insulted his dead mother and made him lose control of his emotions and try to kill me in front of the bridge." She rubs her neck. The bruises and aches are gone, but she can still feel where they used to be. "So of course he had to step down after that."

James frowns. "I don't understand any of you," he says, like the admission itself is one more source of confusion. He hesitates and she doesn't know why until he leans forward with deliberate care and kisses her in the place where she'd been rubbing non-existent bruises away, careful and gentle.

She holds her breath, but he doesn't follow up on the motion and she has no interest in pressing it.

"We'll be on Starbase One in a week," she says instead. "What then?"

He accepts the topic without demur and closes his eyes like he's thinking it through. He doesn't answer the question, though.

The next time she comes off shift, he isn't in her quarters, but she doesn't take the time to panic, just asks the computer. "James Kirk is currently in Commander Spock's quarters," she's informed in cool, crisp tones.

She gets up and goes without needing to hear anything further. She's not sure what she expects to find when she gets there, broken furniture, red human blood, James naked on Spock's sheets the way he is too often on hers, anything in between. She punches in her command code without bothering to knock and strides inside.

Instead of a nightmare, they're playing three dimensional chess. It's never been her game, but from the set-up of the board, Spock's winning, though James is making him work for it. She's surprised at herself she can make that much out from just looking at the board.

James stands up when he sees her, a brightness in his eyes that's half amusement and all challenge. He's wearing a tunic that's too tight for him and clings to the smooth curve of his ass and the definition of shoulders. "You were gone," he says. "I was bored."

"Captain," Spock says, a moment later. "I had not expected to see you off shift."

She laughs, she really can't help it. "Teach me to worry about you two," she mutters under her breath, but she knows they'll hear, Spock because of his Vulcan senses and James because all he ever does is listen if it's about him, like his life depends on it.

"Are you jealous?" James asks with a showy, artless curiosity that's all surface shine with no emotion underneath. "Of him or of me?"

"That is an illogical statement," Spock says before she has a chance to answer. "The Captain is not involved in an intimate relationship with either of us at this time."

Uhura spins around and walks out the door as quickly as she'd come in. She doesn't know what's on her face, but no one talks to her on her way back to the bridge or objects when she takes an extended shift. It's not like they're not short handed anyway.

She's not sure if she's surprised or not that when she comes back to her quarters again, James is there, sitting curled up on her bed. He's got on a sleeveless tunic that shows off the smooth lines of his arms and the fading bruises from fuck knows what.

He uncurls when he sees her. "You said before that I couldn't serve on your ship unless I was a Federation Officer. I want to do that."

"You'll never pass the psych exam," she mutters.

He shrugs. Shrugs again and then pulls the tunic off with one smooth motion and waits, like he's gaging her response. "I don't know what that means," he says, because of course psychotic Romulan planet killers don't have psych exams.

"It's kind of important."

He makes a face that should look childish and ridiculous, but doesn't, not with him half naked in her bed. "I also want to have an intimate relationship," he says, after a pause.

"With me or with Spock," she says and pretends she doesn't sound thirteen and jealous saying that kind of thing.

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be stupid on purpose. That's a really annoying human thing to do."

"You're a human thing," she says.

"Yeah, like that's my fault," he says.

She could leave, but she doesn't. Instead she undoes the zipper on her boots and puts them aside before coming over to him and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He takes her hand and she curls them together.

"I don't think you could pass a psych exam to be in a healthy intimate relationship," she admits, like she isn't sitting right there, holding his hand. Not like she could either, look at her track record, but... "I don't think you know you can say no."

That makes him laugh. He twists his hand around so he has a grip on her wrist. Not tight, but relentless. Just for a few seconds, like he's trying to prove a point. It's nothing to panic about, but that doesn't stop her. For a second, all she sees is red, bright and terrifying. The red sun of Tarsus and she's small and scared and he's big. Or it's the bridge of the Enterprise and there's Spock, stronger than a human male, stronger than her and he wants blood. She moves, eel slippery, and angles the sharp curve of her heel into his instep, mercilessly.

His eyes go blank and he'd already let her go even before her foot shot out, but not soon enough that she can stop herself before she follows up with a kick to the balls. A second later and she's herself again, in the Captain's quarters in the Enterprise, with a man who probably knows better than any other she's ever met exactly what it is to be held down and helpless. She feels the heat rise in her skin and pushes back, away, while he gasps.

"Don't leave," he squeaks out, before she even realizes she's going to. She stops in her tracks. "Please," he adds, in a more normal voice, like he can just lock the pain away. His body is still, loose, like he's ready and willing to take another blow without flinching. She feels sick. "I shouldn't have-- sorry. Sorry."

She shuts her eyes and sits back down, shaky, arms wrapped around her stomach. "It's not really your fault," she whispers.

"You don't want me," he says in return, like she'd asked some kind of question. "I understand."

She shakes her head. "Believe me, that's not the problem." When she looks at him, he looks back, those painfully blue eyes on her. And for a second, she doesn't have that weird double echo of Spock—the other Spock's memories. No... for a second, she thinks of Gaila's eyes and how they were almost that color, her more than likely dea-- not going to think about it-- her best friend. _Sometimes, you have to see what it's like when you're doing it for yourself_, Gaila said and laughed, like she'd never known any other way. James laughed a little like that sometimes.

Uhura takes a deep breath and leans back over to kiss him, waiting for the flinch, the spark of fear, from her or from him. It doesn't come. She breathes again. "This is really dumb," she admits. "But I hate being afraid. I hate losing things. The world wasn't supposed to be this way."

He frowns and it's almost as pretty as his smile. One broad palm cradles itself against her head, fingers curling into her hair. "Yeah. I'm really tired of losing too. Let's stop now."

She could say it's not that easy, that nothing's better, that this will all get fucked up and fucked over the second they dock in Federation space. That maybe they'll never even see each other again. But... she doesn't think so. Spock, the old Spock, had said something about destiny, right? Maybe she does get to win, to have her ship, have James, have everything that she wants to be hers. She saved the world, after all, hasn't she earned it?

What she wants more than anything is to tell James the truth and in the end, that's the easiest part.

"Ever hear of a planet called Tarsus?" she asks and gets a blank, open palmed shrug in response. Of course he hasn't. She sighs and leans back, resting against him for a moment. "It used to be a Federation colony, before a quarter of the population starved to death and half of the ones who were left slaughtered the other half and told the galaxy it was in the interest of cultural fucking purity. Might as well have gone all in and called it Tartarus."

There's a long silence. When she looks up, he's staring. "Humans do that?" he asks. "Nero said they were soft, weak... gentle."

Uhura can't help the sour laughter, wishes she could. "No," she says. "No. Do you feel gentle?"

He closes his eyes and then, finally, shakes his head and laughs too. "No," he says. "I don't."

She kisses James'-- Jim's beautiful, painful, laughing mouth. He sighs and closes his eyes, body melting into her touch. "Right," she whispers. "Let's do this, then."

They do.


End file.
